Old Vox Posts

there's nothing much to say

reason after reason
yet i can't really see
can't understand
why there is love,
pain, joy,
death
and everything in between

don't really know
where they come from
what they're good for
if they're of any use
or if they're just there
just because

the world collapses
and i stand witness
still and waiting
thinking
if there's anything i should do
or if i should join the fall

countless, endless pits
with very little light
i slowly drift away
into the darkness
losing an unexplained battle

dos siete cuatro

January 9, 2008

two thousand ten
faces and silhouettes still memories
waiting moments long passing
already two years overdue

two thousand three
the faces are unfamiliar
a collection of quiet moments
a seven-year introduction begins

two thousand eight
faces and silhouettes but mental images
sing a requiem to a dead flame
or look if the wait has worth

two thousand four
an eight-month love begins
leading to sad goodbyes
anticipate four years after

things unfinished

the story of her life did not exactly lack drama

she had an almost always absent family, not-so-good grades, a pretty good number of enemies, and a regular sexual intimacy session with her good friends (popularly known as orgy and an idea they got from an edgy movie where almost everything revolved around sex)

she had all that but all she really wanted was one thing: love

romantic love to specific

she tried to develop the feeling with one of her "pals" although she knew she was more after the meat than the soul
her lust-driven life did not make it easy for her to make non sexual friends
a basic necessity she wanted to have before she could get a step closer to romantic love

and then he came
rugged, long-haired, wore a sweatshirt under his tee, jeans with holes, and shoes that said "hello" to the world

everything happened in confidence
they fell in love (or so she thought) and had sex
she got pregnant, he found out and left her

baby died with the memories
memories died with the guy
she carried her secrets to the other world

but i stayed. one of her pals whose meat she was after
all the time, she had my heart, my soul

she didn't know... but she had love...

so it goes..

lines, shapes
big picture
details minute
tip of pen
words
loosely hanging
short story
wordy
graphic
secrets kept

will it die?

A name bracelet, two notebooks containing all their text conversations, and a brown envelope containing all his letters. The box held all her pain for her. She decided to keep the pain locked up in the box. Somehow, she felt protected. She didn't want to let go of the memories, but she didn't want to face the bad things involved in all those memories. It was her idea of escapism. Moving on requires forgetting, you just have to know where to look back when there are things you have to remember. He told her that before he left to join all the others in eternal slumber.

Maybe when people die, they bring you to someone else who can continue looking up for you. She didn't believe it at first but then she met another guy a few months after her first love's demise. He's like a guy plucked straight out of a fairy tale that ended with "happily ever after." Good looks of a prince, intelligence of a wise man, and the courage of a hero. He had all that, just like the first one. Her fear of getting close because of the inevitable possibility of losing a person didn't fail to get in the way either. Her love was the only thing that could let her work her way around it. Escapism, it seemed, wasn't much of a problem for her. Sometimes love just isn't enough. You have to make it enough... so you could work your way through things, not around them. Her love wasn't for the new guy, she realized. It was still for the first guy who ever said "I love you" to her.

So she watched him as he slept peacefully on her bed. For the first time since the death of her first love, she looked back. She knew exactly what she had to remember: nothing could ever change the way she felt. The wise, courageous prince deserved to be truly loved. It was too bad he couldn't save his damsel in distress. The sleeping pills she put in his drink was enough for him to sleep through the night. The entire night was all she needed to get back to the box which contained all her pain. She was ready to face all that. The box contained the way out.

A name bracelet, two notebooks containing all their text conversations, a brown envelope containing all his letters, and a gun loaded with just one bullet. All hers whenever she's ready to remember. All hers... whenever she wants to go back to the love she lost.

For whatever it's worth...

He came to her house one day to tell her that he had to follow his parents to Australia. It was as bad as finding out that there was an explosion in one of her favorite malls. She shed a tear but didn't say a word when she heard the news. They sat on the rocking chairs in silence, both thinking of ways to strike up a happy conversation. It was hard for her to think of reasons to ask him to stay... except for the fact that she had fallen in love with him. Not deeply, but enough for her to feel the terrible pain of knowing he had to leave. He realized that there was nothing else they could say so he stood up and left without saying goodbye. She didn't stop him. A friend once told her that guys are dense but she believed in one thing: He'll find out sooner or later. Even if it meant that the name of the one he really loved will remain unspoken.

It was the last day of their college life and she tried to gather courage to tell him how she felt. After her last class, she walked hurriedly to where he usually stayed. There, she found him, his lips pressed to another woman's lips. Graduation day passed and they didn't talk. He left for Australia two days after. She didn't cry a single tear.

Years passed and she met somebody else and soon they were married. Her husband worked as a doctor and she stayed home to care for their two children. One day she received a letter and at once she recognized the writing on the paper.

Hi. I've just come home from Australia a week ago. I was hoping I could find you and talk to you again. I was on my way to your parent's house when I saw you holding hands with a man. You have very beautiful children, by the way. I changed my mind about talking to you and saw it fit to just send this letter. I asked your parents for your new address, I hope you don't mind. They were also the ones who told me you're married.

I just wanted to tell you about something that happened on our last day in school. I was deep in thought that day and was keeping to myself as usual. Suddenly this girl came up to me and kissed me right on the lips. She just gave a mischievous smile after that and told me "Sorry man, it was just a dare." With that, she walked away. I noticed you were near but I didn't have enough courage to tell you what happened. For some reason, I felt guilty. That's why I decided not to talk to you anymore.

You didn't know but it's you whom I've loved all along. I just didn't know how to tell you. I came home hoping that I could set things right. But I guess I came home too late.

Yours always,

Julian

She folded the paper and cried the tears that she should have cried years before. How could she not notice? She realized that she, too, was dense. Her love for him remained but as she watched her two children play happily, she knew that she made the right decision. There are some things and people that you just have to let go of.

love... almost.

The rain water splashed lightly from the tree leaves and to the rocks and grass. The boy took a deep breath, his eyes set upon nothingness, perhaps waiting for some sort of surprise. He was leaning on the ledge with his hands clasped together. His thoughts flew freely with the wind. He smiled to himself as he caught sight of her, wondering if he did the right thing by making the joke.

The girl sat silently by the stairs and tried to occupy herself with her readings. She was letting the rain take her thoughts with it. It was a cold Saturday morning when he took her hand in his... as a joke. She shook her head when she remembered. His hand was soft. He held her hand longer than she expected. Not just once... not twice... but thrice. But it didn't matter... for him it was a joke; for her, it was the end of a joke.

off a cliff and into the Pacific Ocean.

It's funny I don't really know how badly my life's going. It's even funnier that after I realized that it is going badly, I suddenly found out that it's all because of me. I'm messing my life up. I'm not getting good grades. I'm doing so much non-academic work. I refuse to have a social life. I refuse to trust people. I'm distancing myself from my friends. I don't believe others have the capacity to love... just because at one point in time they refused the love I had for them.

Love still exists in this little world of mine. But I'd rather have it bottled up. Nobody believes me anyway. A lot of my friends are afraid of that word. Afraid to trust. Afraid to give in. I realized that maybe I should be scared too. Not that I'm not yet scared. I've been afraid all my life. But I opted for a more loving disposition which apparently doesn't work in this world of hatred and mistrust. So I'm now going to keep a low profile and screw my life a little more just to see where it's going to take me. If it was hard for me then to tell people that I love them, it's ten times as hard now.

I was scared. I fought. I lost. So now I'm even more scared.

when love DNE.

He casted the light upon a rock as he leaned steadily on the brick wall. It was almost midnight and he couldn't bring himself to sleep. Images of the accident flashed in his head. From the bright light that he saw from the truck to his bleeding mother trying to fight for life in his arms. It's been three months and he has totally healed while his mother remained in the intensive care unit, beaten up and unresponsive. She showed no signs of waking up. He refused to let her go. His mother used to bring him to that spot every time he couldn't sleep. It was his job to point the light at the rock as his mother made shadow images with her hand. But there were a lot of moments when she would just look at him blankly. It was as if she didn't want to be his mother. But they were happy. Life, unfair as it is, didn't want things to always go perfectly.

With the hopes that she would wake up, he always set up a shadow puppet show for his mother ever since he recovered. Not once did his mother give his unspoken wishes any heed. She just stayed there on the bed, her head covered with bandage and a plastic tubing placed in her mouth. After two more months of spectator-less shadow shows, his mother gave up.

He spent almost every night leaning on the wall while pointing his flashlight at the rock. One dark, cold night he noticed a piece of paper folded neatly and placed under the rock. He took it and read it quietly.

I hope someday I could tell him that his father raped me... and all I could remember were silhouettes.

origami

Japanese tradition dictates that folding 1000 cranes will grant you a wish. 1000 cranes. That's stressing your fingers 1000 times to get the creases and folds right. That's being hopeful 1000 time more than you should be. That's wishing for the same thing 1000 times when you could actually wish on a star just once. For some obscure reason, I find the idea very appealing.

I was sitting quietly on a bench near the guard house, munching on a bag of nuts while reading our Chemistry book. I stared at you as you alighted the school bus just ten feet away from me. You exuded the aura of a little boy waiting for someone to play with. You gave me a nod just like the day before and all the days before that. For that split moment, I saw how your eyes sparkled with hope. Hope for something I didn't wish to learn about. I politely nodded back and popped a handful of nuts into my mouth as I shifted back my attention to the 187th page of the book on my lap.

In truth, even with my eyes on the book, I could still see you as you walked towards the bench beside the one I was sitting on. You had a bunch of colored paper in one hand and a pack of three Ferrero chocolates in the other. I actually changed my sitting position just to see you better, more interested in the chocolates than in you. But your ways intrigued me even before that day. You gave me friendly nods and shy smiles but nothing more. I asked myself if you remember me from grade school. We were always in the same class in all grade levels; always 6 seats apart. You had all the right answers to all the teacher's questions. I had all the wrong ones. I actually hated you for always answering correctly after I gave totally wrong answers.

I watched you intently.My book sat on my lap, suddenly taken for granted. I could almost hear it screaming "KEEP YOUR EYES ON ME MORON!" but I settled for setting my eyes on you. Intrigued by your paper-folding and Fererro-eating spree, I couldn't keep myself from staring. Three Ferrero chocolates and six paper flowers after, you lifted your head, gave me a quick nod, stuffed the origami flowers into your bag, threw your trash into the bin, and walked to the classroom. I followed you into the room and sat on my desk chair, 6 seats away from you. That day was like any other, we had almost nothing but silence between us. Somehow, silence was all that mattered. The day ended without even a second of exchange of words. It was totally in accordance to what I had in mind at that time: you're just a classmate since grade school and I don't have to talk to you. Not that day, maybe not ever.

I didn't sit on the bench the following day. It was raining hard and I wasn't really up to dirtying my uniform. Third year high school sucks big time. I was sitting on a chair a few meters away from the bench with endless rants inside my head. Other students were scrambling for cover, their uniforms wet with rain water. In the middle of the ever panicky crowd of wet students, you walked slowly, holding your bag above your head. You were heading towards my direction. I kept my head down, pretending not to notice that you were coming. My heart pounded loudly on my ribcage and I didn't realize that you were already sitting on a chair next to mine, silently drying yourself with a handkerchief.

Classes are now suspended because of the typhoon. Please wait for your fetchers. The announcement brought about different reactions from the students. Some jumped in glee, others grunted in frustration. I let out a grunt and frustratingly rubbed my face with my hands. You continued drying yourself, seemingly oblivious of the fact that you got terribly wet just for nothing. As you stood up, you placed a piece of folded paper in my hand without looking at me. It was a blue crane with a distorted head. I had every intention of asking you what it was for. But you were already walking towards your school bus even before I could thank you. Again, there were no words. There weren't any nods either. Just a paper crane. That day, I realized that even without a conversation with you, I already liked you.

The days after that, there were no more cranes, just nods and silence. I settled for those knowing that each day after the other, you would nod at me, sit on the bench near the bench I sat on, and sit 6 seats away from me in class. The school year ended that way. So did the school year after that. I had no idea if it was sheer coincidence that we had to be classmates again that final high school year and sit 6 places away from each other. It also wasn't clear why you couldn't talk to me and vice versa. We had our own set of friends but I felt that we were friends. Our friendship was just different. On graduation day, you gave me another crane slightly bigger than the first one you gave me. It had "424" scribbled on one wing.

Then we went into the same college, were in the same course, and was almost always in the same building. You walked up to me one hot day of our first month in school and said "Hi Reina, I'm Drei." I gave you a nod and smiled. That was the first time we talked. That was how we really became friends, we were always together ever since. As friends. Sometimes we were just silent, just like how we were in grade school and high school. Most of the time there were hugs instead of nods and friendly pecks on the cheek instead of just smiles. The  school year ended that way.

On our second year, nothing changed. We were still the way we were in first year. Just friends. We shared stories, answers to homework, and food. We studied together and went into the same student organization. That's exactly how we were in Freshman year. One morning, you just didn't show up. I didn't look for you but I waited for you, knowing that you would show. You came after my last class. You had a big paper bag in one hand and a heart shaped container of Ferrero chocolates in the other. The container had a paper crane on it. You handed the loot to me with the same hopeful look I saw one high school day. "This is for the 1000 days that I love you" was written on the crane. That day, there was only silence as you took my hand in yours.

Since the day I got that first paper crane, I started making one on each day. Each crane represented each day since the day that I realized I had feelings for him. I gave him the 1001 cranes the day after he gave me his 1000 cranes.I realized I didn't have to make a thousand cranes. I already got my wish the moment he gave me the first crane . We now have 6524 cranes not including the 2001 cranes we exchanged .